


A Storybook Kind of Romance

by CelticRune



Category: Choice of Games, The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-04-14 13:26:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14136957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelticRune/pseuds/CelticRune
Summary: It's difficult to find time alone with your girlfriend when she is part of a closely-knit (andnosy) team of vampires. The obvious solution to this is, of course, to go on a date.





	A Storybook Kind of Romance

Tanwen loves spring. Winter is cold and dreary and summer’s heat leaves her drowsy, but spring! Spring is new life, baby animals and flowers blooming around every corner.

She spreads her arms wide and turns her face up to the sky, basking in the sunlight. Nat chuckles, softly amused, and Tanwen spins around to face her with a bright smile. Nat looks radiant and utterly at peace all at once, cast in soft golden light and perfectly matched by the fresh greens and brown of the forest behind her. Her only concessions to the weather are the absence of her usual leather jacket and the rolled up sleeves of her open shirt (and Tanwen totally did not trip over her own feet when she first saw her girlfriend like this, she did _not_ ).

The grass is soft against her bare feet, her shoes long since discarded at the edge of the glade. She can’t stop smiling, her heart full to bursting. The sun is shining, the forest is alive around her, and she’s here with the woman she loves. How could she not be happy? She breathes in deep, the scent of wildflowers thick in the air, then lets it out as a laugh. It helps a bit with the restless energy, the feeling that she’s about to burst at the seams, but not enough. She needs to move, to _do_ something, so she twirls in a messy pirouette because she can and she likes the way it feels when her skirt flares out wide around her thighs.

She’s not even sure how she manages to get her feet tangled together, but she also doesn’t have a lot of time to think about it before her balance fails her and she’s falling backwards. She squeezes her eyes closed on instinct and braces herself, but no harsh landing follows. Instead an arm wraps around her waist, keeping her (mostly) upright. The thought _‘surely not’_ flashes across her mind, before she opens her eyes to find that surely _yes_ , Nat did in fact just save her like a dashing heroine straight out of all her favourite romance novels.

“I’m so sorry,” she blurts out, her eyes wide and horrified. She tries to struggle to her feet, but before she can get anywhere Nat scoops her up into her arms. She squeaks in surprise, then again as she realises this is a bridal carry, this is _totally_ a bridal carry, _that is Nat’s hand on her bare thigh, oh gosh-_

She buries her face in Nat’s shoulder with an embarrassed whine, her hands fisted in the soft cotton of her shirt. Nat’s arms are warm and solid and _strong_ , carrying her like she weighs nothing, and against her bare legs Nat’s touch burns like the same fire that sets her cheeks aflame. She can feel Nat’s laugh reverberate through her chest, a warmly amused sound, but it doesn’t help her flustered embarrassment any. “Nothing to apologise for, dear. I might just have to carry you everywhere. For your safety, of course,” she says, her smile audible in her voice.

Tanwen looks up sharply, but all thoughts of what she might say scatter like leaves in the wind when she realises Nat’s face is _right there_ , _very close_ , so close that if she tilts her head just so their lips would meet. She’s sort of forgotten how to breathe but that minor matter is eclipsed by the simmering heat in Nat’s eyes.

“Can I kiss you?” Nat asks, low and husky, and Tanwen’s heart skips a beat.

Her stuttered, “Yes,” is low and breathless but it doesn’t matter as Nat _smiles_ and then she kisses her and Tanwen’s mind goes dizzily blank. Nat kisses like she does anything else, kind and patient and with a note of carefully tempered hunger that makes her knees go weak (and has her glad she isn’t standing on her own legs, as she doesn’t think they could carry her right now).

By the time they break apart she’s breathing fast, clutching Nat’s shirt tightly, and Nat’s looking entirely too pleased about it all. Tanwen tries to say something witty but what comes out instead is “I love you”.

“I love you too,” Nat says and _oh_ , that still makes her heart skip a beat every time she hears it.

She hums happily and she’s sure she must look positively giddy but that’s okay because it’s how she feels, too. She snakes a hand up to rest against the back of Nat’s neck, keeping her close so she can rub their noses together in a playful eskimo kiss. Words may be beyond her sometimes but this, touch, affection, this has always come easy.

She is promptly reminded of the… situation when Nat rubs her thumb against her thigh, just under the hem of her dress. The moment of peaceful tranquillity shatters and she squirms in her arms, biting her lip, torn between chasing Nat’s lips (and the hunger in her eyes) and her own flustered embarrassment.

The latter wins out and she ducks her head, avoiding Nat’s knowing smile. “Could- could you put me down?” she asks, her voice rising high with nerves.

She doesn’t lift her head to look when she feels Nat shift but she doesn’t have to to feel the gentle press of lips against her temple. Nat’s warm breath ruffles her hair and she shivers, her blush hot enough that she must be able to feel it. “You’re adorable,” Nat murmurs, but before Tanwen can stutter out a denial she is set carefully back on her feet.

She sways for a second, one hand still clutching Nat’s shirt, as she’s not sure her wobbly legs will support her. Nat’s hand hovers by the small of her back, like she’s not convinced of her steadiness either. Her skin still tingles where Nat touched her and it’s exciting and wonderful and almost too much, so she slips away in the hope that some space will help clear her head.

The weight of Nat’s eyes on her doesn’t help, but the familiar sense of melancholy does. The forest is alive with bird-song, accompanied by the gentle clatter of a small waterfall. It’s been a while since she was last here, but she still knows it like the back of her hand. It’s a small break in the thickly wooded forest, hemmed in at one side by a low but steep hill. A stream from the high ground flows down the hillside and into the pond that forms the centre of the small glade. Perhaps hip-deep, it hasn’t been deep enough to swim in since she was a child but it’s still beautiful. It’s surrounded by a few feet of lush grass and colourful flowers she doesn’t know the names of.

Like muscle memory, she can still see where she would climb the uneven hillside as a child. It only makes her more aware of the empty space at her side, where her sister used to be. “I would come here all the time when I was younger,” she muses. Despite her best efforts, some of the melancholy has seeped into her voice and it’s unsurprising but no less welcome for it when Nat steps closer and slips an arm around her waist.

Tanwen leans against her side, grateful for the support. She hadn’t explained …anything, when she’d suggested coming here for their date, but she should have. Should do it now, no matter how the thought of ruining the mood ties her stomach into knots. “My sister and I, we would sneak off to the forest all the time, but this was our hiding spot. None of the nannies ever managed to find us here, though mom always did.”

“You’ve never talked about her before,” Nat says quietly. It’s a leading question if she’s ever heard one, but in this she doesn’t mind being led.  

“We were just playing in the forest, like always. I wasn’t paying enough attention, and she fell. She, ah, she died in my arms.” A smile flits across her face, belying the guilt that twists her stomach into knots. Nat squeezes her waist and it helps, just a bit. “I was eleven at the time. Mom doesn’t like to talk about her so I never did, either.”

“What was her name?” Nat asks, and it wasn’t the question Tanwen was expecting but perhaps she should have.

“Neah. She was… I loved her. Love her, still.” Her voice breaks on the last sentence, her breath hitching, and she lets Nat take some of her weight. It makes it easier to keep a smile on her face, however tremulous. “I’ve never taken anyone else here. I’ve been back, a few times, but always by myself. I, ah, I guess I wanted to show it to you?”

Nat’s breath catches, audible only because Tanwen’s listening for it. Is she surprised? Shocked? Touched? It’s difficult to guess without seeing her face, but she doesn’t quite feel brave enough to risk that. “It’s beautiful. I… Thank you so much for trusting me with this.” Nat’s voice is raw, heavy with gratitude and affection and just a hint of awed wonder.

It gives Tanwen the courage to finally face her. Her eyes are wet but the tears don’t fall because yes, this place carries memories and loss and a grief that will never fully leave even if it’s lessened over time, but she’s _happy_ , too. She’s here with the woman she loves and the gaping absence at her side might never be filled but it’s easier to bear when she’s not alone. Nat’s expression is one of understanding, not sympathy, and she wonders how many people the vampire has lost. How immortality must weigh on her shoulders.

Then she shakes the thought away and smiles, getting up on the tips of her toes so that when she hooks her arms around Nat’s neck and pulls her in for a hug they’re almost cheek to cheek. “Thank you for being here,” she whispers, and Nat holds her closer.

 

Things get lighter after that as they bask in the sunlight, talking about nothing in particular and stealing kisses whenever they can. They don’t often get time together like this, uninterrupted by work or ~~nosy~~ friendly teammates, so they intend to make the most of it.

At some point Tanwen shuffles over so she’s lying on her back in the grass, her feet dangling over the edge of the pond in the cool water and her head in Nat’s lap. With all the flowers here, it didn’t take long for her to start weaving a flower crown. She’s made so many over the years she could do it in her sleep, and even having Nat’s attention focused on her isn’t enough to impede that muscle memory. When Nat isn’t handing her various flowers she’s petting Tanwen’s hair and it’s equal parts comforting and distracting, a soothing rhythm that makes her want to fall asleep right there, while at the same time being wrapped up in Nat’s affection fills her stomach with butterflies.

The corners of Nat’s mouth curl up into a fondly teasing half-smile, like she can hear the turn of Tanwen’s thoughts. Like clockwork, an answering blush colours her cheeks and she has to fight the impulse to duck her head and hide her face for fear Nat would stop petting her hair.

“Another flower?” Nat asks, her smile no less pleased, and Tanwen gratefully latches onto the distraction.

“If you could yes, please.” She examines the flower crown with a critical eye. It’s simple but, in her humble opinion, quite pretty, with yellow and blue flowers curling around each other in a straightforward, if somewhat chaotic, pattern. It’s almost perfect, but not quite yet. “Blue, if you can find one?”

Nat hums her acknowledgement, but she keeps absentmindedly petting Tanwen’s hair as she looks for a good flower. Tanwen could be useful and help her look, but she finds her gaze caught by the way Nat’s lingering smile lights up her whole face. The sunlight makes her dark brown eyes shimmer with flecks of gold and Tanwen wants to kiss her so badly it hurts.

In the end she doesn’t think, just does. She scrambles to her knees and kisses Nat, the flower crown slipping from her slack fingers. Or she would have, if she hadn’t caught the hem of her dress under her knee and lost her balance, smacking their foreheads together.

Nat recoils with a wince and Tanwen yelps, clutching her forehead. Red-hot embarrassment floods through her and she’s torn between curling up into a little ball and throwing herself into the water and making sure Nat’s okay.

Concern wins out over embarrassment and she cups Nat’s face in her hands, brushing loose strands of hair away from her forehead. “I’m so sorry,” she blurts out, her eyes wide and apologetic, “are you okay?”

The stream of apologies building in her throat dries up when Nat covers her hand with her own. “I’m alright,” she says with a fondly amused smile. “Are you?”

“I- yes, I am, I’m _so_ sorry, I didn’t mean to I swear, it’s just that my dress got caught and I-”

Nat laughs, her shoulders shaking with it, and Tanwen loses her train of thought entirely. While Nat is as free with her smiles as Tanwen is, her laughter is somewhat more rare (and all the more enchanting for it). Tanwen watches uncertainly for a moment, but Nat gives her no time to get truly nervous. She brushes her fingers along Tanwen’s cheek, her touch warm even against her heated skin, before they slide down to cup her cheek. It only makes her redden further, but she still nuzzles into Nat’s palm, grateful for the comfort. She doesn’t even notice Nat moving until her lips brush against Tanwen’s temple in a sweet kiss. She stiffens in surprise but then she smiles as Nat touches their foreheads together, gently this time, and stays there.

“All better,” Nat murmurs, and Tanwen chuckles beside herself.

“All better,” she echoes.

The tranquillity of the moment is soundly broken when Tanwen jerks back with a startled, “My flower crown!” She looks around frantically, only to sigh in relief as she finds it still in the grass right next to them, unharmed if a little ruffled. She picks it up with a frown, smoothing out a few bent flower petals before she deems it hale and healthy. “I thought I might’ve sat on it just now,” she sheepishly admits.

“It’s still just as beautiful as you.”

Tanwen opens her mouth, closes it, then narrows her eyes in vague suspicion. Nat didn’t _sound_ like she was lying, but… “You’re just saying that,” she mutters, ducking her head to avoid the sincerity in Nat’s eyes.

“Tanwen,” Nat says, with just a hint of reproach that nonetheless makes Tanwen’s throat tighten, “look at me.”

It’s a gently voiced request but it’s a request nonetheless, and Tanwen could never deny her anything. She looks.

“You’re beautiful.” She says it like it’s fact, the way someone else might say ‘The sky is blue’. Like there’s no way anyone could see it differently. “When you smile it’s like the first rays of sunshine after rain.” She draws her finger along Tanwen’s bottom lip and her voice drops low, her eyes dark and piercing, and Tanwen can’t really remember how to breathe. “You steal my thoughts from me just by being close. When I touch you, I forget everything else.” _When did she get this close?_ “Do you believe me?”

It takes Tanwen a moment to even parse the words. Nat is close enough that their breaths mingle in the space between them, that she’s all Tanwen can look at. How could she possibly be expected to think like this, much less form words? It’s difficult to misunderstand the sincerity and love in Nat’s eyes, though, so after another moment she nods mutely, her eyes wide.

The pride in Nat’s smile is breathtaking. “Good.” The simple praise sends shivers down Tanwen’s spine and she can’t tell who moves first but she does know she will never ever get tired of kissing Nat when she’s smiling.

Tanwen pulls away first, finding some distance so she can unscramble her thoughts. “I-I feel like I should say _something_ but I, well, I’m not very good with words but I do love you! And you mean the world to me, and you make me really really happy and I made this for you and you know about it so it’s not exactly a surprise but I’m just going to give this to you now and stop talking so I don’t embarrass myself more.” She thrusts the flower crown out at Nat, because it’s not perfect yet but she has nothing else to offer that could possibly match the gift she’s just been given (this doesn’t even come close but it’s a start, it’s _something_ , it’s better than nothing). She’s pretty sure she’s red to the tips of her ears but, even though it’s hard, she still meets Nat’s eyes.

Nat’s delighted attention jumps from Tanwen to the flower crown she’s holding, like it’s the best gift she’s ever gotten even though she’s been _right there_ the whole time Tanwen was making it and she helped pick out the flowers. It’s as much their joined project as it is just hers, but that doesn’t seem to matter. “Thank you,” Nat breathes. She takes the flower crown from Tanwen’s trembling fingers and settles it on the dark waves of her hair. The light blue flowers (that match Tanwen’s dress, she definitely wasn’t very pleased when she noticed that, not at all) suit her well, and the cheerful yellow makes her smile all the more blinding.

“That’s almost unfair,” Tanwen mutters, then claps a hand in front of her mouth as she realises she really did just say that out loud. “You’re even prettier than usual right now, and I didn’t really think that was possible,” she adds in an attempt at an explanation. It’s muffled behind her hand, but she knows Nat will hear it anyway.

Nat doesn’t bother hiding her low laugh. She doesn’t seem to hide very much at all, and Tanwen is never sure whether she should be jealous. She gently tugs Tanwen’s hand away from her face and intertwines their fingers in a move filled with so much casual intimacy butterflies explode in Tanwen’s stomach. “I’ll just have to find more ways to surprise you in the future, then.”


End file.
